


When The Time Is Right

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Gay Rights, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Permanent Injury, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 01:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: John and Rodney’s story starts in a ’56 Bel Air convertible and spans three decades of cultural turmoil, personal achievement, and loss. Will the timing ever be right for them to be together?





	1. In A Restless World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [velocitygrass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tapestry of Two Lives](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526616) by [velocitygrass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass). 



> So many thanks to [Velocitygrass](http://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass) for the wonderful artwork that inspired this story, and for making the title card!
> 
> Thanks also to my amazing beta [nagi_schwarz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz) for her support and cheerleading!

_Baby, if I made you mad_   
_for something I might have said,_   
_Please, let's forget the past,_   
_the future looks bright ahead,_   
_Don't be cruel to a heart that's true._

Rodney swung but only caught the hood in the leather jacket a glancing blow. He got an elbow in the mouth in return and he felt his bottom lip give. He tried again and this time caught the guy solidly in the ribs, sending a flare of pain up his own arm. Well, he wouldn’t be playing the piano for a few days.

Really, it was a fitting send-off. His father had been a fool to accept a transfer to that backwater American town, and Rodney had been paying the price for the last three years. The smartest person in school rarely got the respect he deserved.

He wished he was better at fighting. Or at least better at keeping his mouth shut. If he hadn’t called the hood a bottom-feeding ignoramus his lip wouldn’t be bleeding and his shirt wouldn’t be torn.

The hood’s greasy friend held Rodney’s arms and kept him from doubling over when he took a solid shot to the gut. He only dimly registered the squeal of tires through the ringing in his ears and then someone plowed into the first hood, knocking him back into the brick façade of Klein’s Pharmacy.

The second hood released Rodney so abruptly he staggered and almost fell. He looked around wildly for something to use as a weapon and saw the two-toned Bel Air convertible parked half up on the curb. Oh, no. John.

Rodney wasn’t successful in locating a weapon and was just about to throw himself back in the fray when a second wave of help arrived in the oversized person of Ronon Dex: greaser, high school dropout, and all-around intimidating individual. He plucked the hoods off John by the collars of their leather jackets and flung them to the side like it was nothing.

“Freak!” one of the hoods screamed as they ran away.

Ronon gave John a hand up and a critical once-over. “You good?”

“I’ll live. Thanks for the assist.”

John Sheppard: captain of the football team, co-captain of the baseball team, and the very secret object of Rodney’s even-more-secret affections. Rodney was mortified at having been rescued, though the fact that John hadn’t fared any better was some consolation.

“You okay, Rodney?” John asked, dusting off his blue jeans.

“I had it under control.” He hadn’t asked to be saved like a princess in a Disney movie.

“Sure you did,” Ronon said. He pulled a comb out of his back pocket and touched up his gleaming pompadour. 

“We owe you one.” John clapped Ronon on the back.

“You wanna pay me back? Kick Mitchell’s ass.”

With those enigmatic words Ronon mounted his motorcycle, much like the way a cowboy might swing himself into the saddle. The bored-looking girl that was sitting on the back immediately perked up and wrapped her arms around him. He might have been a greaser with no foreseeable future, but even Rodney could admit that Ronon was cool.

Rodney licked the blood off his lip, which felt a little swollen. If his parents could stop arguing for five minutes he’d have stayed home instead of wandering Milner Avenue after dark and getting jumped by cretins.

“Let me give you a ride home,” John offered.

Rodney had fantasized many times about riding in the convertible with John, just the two of them cruising through town. He hated having to turn him down.

“Not going home yet.”

John nodded and turned away, then turned back around again. “Are you hungry? I was thinking of stopping by the Flip-n-Sip.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” Rodney felt self-conscious and tried to smooth the rumples out of his shirt, which he’d forgotten was torn up until the left sleeve came off. He quickly stripped off the ragged remains and tossed it in the nearby trash receptacle. Good thing he always layered.

The car was cherry; even someone who wasn’t a gear head could see that. Every bit of chrome gleamed. Rodney knew that John raced the convertible, which he thought was dangerous and stupid and weirdly impressive, and it was clear that John loved his car.

_For absence always makes the hearts grow fonder_  
_I get lonesome for someone's company_  
_You're here today and gone tomorrow and my loving you is just a fantasy_

They rode in companionable silence for a little while, which surprised Rodney. He expected John to ask about the hoods, or what Rodney was going to do now that they were high school graduates. Instead he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music and occasionally had shouted conversations with the occupants of other cars.

Rodney had never been cruising. He didn’t have a car, and neither did the one or two people he could call friends. Radek had a powder blue Vespa, but Rodney wouldn’t be caught dead on that thing.

When the Flip-n-Sip came into view it was crowded with cars and people.

“You want to eat inside?” John asked.

Rodney weighed his options. If they ate in the car there was a very good chance he’d get food on the upholstery. But sitting in a booth meant other people might feel compelled to join them because John was so popular, and Rodney wanted to keep John to himself.

“Drive-in is fine,” he said as nonchalantly as possible. “If you can find a spot.”

John, just by dint of who he was, had no trouble getting a spot. He merely honked his horn, got the driver’s attention, and jerked his thumb. Rodney didn’t know who the kid in the Thunderbird was, but he was probably a Freshman. Underclassmen fell all over themselves to help John with whatever he needed. High school royalty. Speaking of which…

“Shouldn’t you be out with Nancy?”

John and Nancy had been the power couple at school since before Rodney had moved to town. Nancy Beeman was the head cheerleader, the soloist in the Glee Club, and very possibly the prettiest girl in school. She and John were usually joined at the hip.

John shrugged. “We broke up. What do you want to eat?”

Rodney scanned the menu board. “Cheeseburger, no onion, fries and a cherry Coke. Why did you break up? I mean, I figured you two would get married, do the whole suburb thing.”

John placed their order and then turned to look at Rodney, his arm stretched out across the back of the seat. “Gave it a lot of thought, did you?”

Rodney flushed, embarrassed. “No! I mean, everyone’s thinking the same thing.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but it was a mutual decision. I’m leaving in the morning and it wouldn’t be fair to her to make her wait on me.”

“College?”

“Air Force. I enlisted.”

Rodney supposed that wasn’t much of a stretch, going from racing cars to flying jet planes. It seemed fairly short-sighted, though, which he was more than happy to point out.

“Aren’t you worried there’ll be another war?”

John shrugged, like it wasn’t even a consideration. “That’s when they’ll need pilots the most. My uncle flew a medic chopper in Korea and I want to do something important like that.”

“That’s very idealistic, but planes and helicopters make easy targets. You know that, right?”

Another shrug, and Rodney started to wonder if he’d been wrong about John being smart. They’d been in some of the same AP classes, so he knew what John was capable of, but he didn’t seem to have much regard for his own safety. Didn’t he know how many pilots died in Korea?

_As sure as night is dark and day is light_  
_I keep you on my mind both day and night_  
_And happiness I've known proves that it's right_  
_Because you're mine, I walk the line_

“This music is awful,” Rodney said.

“Get bent! Johnny Cash isn’t awful!”

And there it was, John Sheppard getting all worked up. Rodney had seen him like that in class sometimes, eyes sparkling and his whole body animated as he defended an opinion. Was it any wonder that Rodney harbored an inappropriate crush?

“Mozart is real music,” Rodney said, just to egg him on.

“Of course you’d say that. You play piano.” John rolled his eyes.

How did John know he played piano? Rodney wasn’t in band or anything, but sometimes after school Ms. McGill would let him play the upright in the music room. The idea of John listening to him play made him a little anxious while at the same time wishing he’d known so he could’ve showed off a little. 

“Now, if you could play like Jerry Lee Lewis, you’d be onto something.”

“Who says I can’t?” Rodney replied airily. Actually, there was something pretty liberating at whaling on the piano keys like Jerry Lee did. Rodney’d taught himself to play _Great Balls of Fire_ solely by ear.

John snorted. “I’d love to see that.”

“So find me a piano,” Rodney challenged. 

“Maybe I will!”

“Fine! Wait, why are we yelling?”

John huffed out a laugh. “I don’t know.”

They grinned at each other and then Dolly was there, rolling up to the car on her skates with the tray of food balanced on her hand. 

“Oh, Johnny! Hi!” Dolly had graduated the year before. “I heard you and Nancy broke up. That’s too bad.”

She hooked the tray over the car door, bending down and showing far too much cleavage. Rodney glared at her.

“It’s okay. We’re staying friends.” John seemed oblivious to the display. 

“You’re so sweet. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m available.”

Rodney just bet she was. Dolly rolled off, waggling her fingers at John as she went, but he was already focused in on the food.

Another twangy Country song came on, and without thinking Rodney twisted the radio dial to ATL. 

_Sandman, I'm so alone_  
_Don't have nobody to call my own_  
_Please turn on your magic beam_  
_Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream_

John raised an eyebrow. “And this is an improvement?”

“Give me my burger.”

Dolly wasn’t the only one who stopped by while they ate. Several other girls from school offered their insincere condolences on the demise of John and Nancy’s relationship and a shoulder to cry on if John needed one. Which didn’t seem to be the case. Several of his jock friends leaned up against the side of the car, pilfering John’s fries and talking about Mitchell and the race he’d apparently challenged John to. From what Rodney could gather, Mitchell was from a different school and he was looking for one last chance to steal John’s racing title. 

The jocks gave Rodney questioning looks, but otherwise pretended he wasn’t there, which was fine with him. He wished they’d paid less attention to him when they were all still in school, when ‘nerds’ were pushed into their own lockers or otherwise humiliated on a fairly regular basis. To his credit, John had never done anything like that as far as Rodney knew.

“Shep!”

“Hey, Dimples. What’s up?”

Dimples, aka Evan Lorne, was a jock who was also some kind of art prodigy, probably because his mother was the art teacher at school and he was exposed to that kind of stuff all the time. Rodney had no problem with the guy; like John, he had a live-and-let-live policy with the other kids at school.

“Mitchell’s looking for you.”

“So I hear. He wants to race, he can find me and ask in person.”

Evan grinned, and it was no wonder he was popular with the girls with dimples like those. “If I see him I’ll let him know.”

“You do that.” John removed the tray and handed it to Evan. “Take care of that, would you?”

“Hail Caesar,” Rodney muttered under his breath. How did John do it? How did he get people to cheerfully agree to do things for him?

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Where are we going?”

“Just cruising,” John replied with a little grin that said he had something up his sleeve. But since he wasn’t kicking Rodney out of the car, he was fine with seeing where the night took him.

_Come, come, come, come_  
_Come into my heart_  
_Tell me, darlin'_  
_We will never part_  
_I need you, darlin'_  
_So come go with me_

They drove down Henderson and seemed to hit every red light. Several more people used that opportunity to pass the word to John about Mitchell, and at one light a girl jumped in the backseat of the convertible and rode with them for a couple blocks, chatting animatedly about her plan to get on _The Price Is Right_ and win a sofa for her mother.

“Is every night like this for you?” Rodney asked when the girl hopped out.

“Yeah.”

“We live very different lives.”

John turned on Bolander and suddenly they were pulling in the empty parking lot of the high school. Well, almost empty. There was one other car parked there, if the rusted old jalopy that looked like it was put together by Dr. Frankenstein could be considered a car. The windows were completely fogged up and the whole thing was rocking in a very suggestive way. Rodney blushed.

“What are we doing here?” he asked. 

“You promised me a song,” John replied with a grin. He hopped out of the car without opening the door.

“Wait. You want to break in? You do know that’s against the law, right?”

“What are they gonna do? Kick us out of school? Come on, Rodney. Live a little!”

Rodney wasn’t a very spontaneous person, but he was helpless to resist John’s easy charm. Besides, he was leaving in the morning, and doing something dangerous with John was a far better send-off than getting jumped by a couple of hoods. He got out of the convertible in the more conventional way.

As they walked past the jalopy John banged on the hood. “Get a room, Stackhouse!”

There was a muffled curse and a giggle and the rocking stopped. Rodney’d never made out with a girl but he didn’t think the backseat was a very comfortable place to do it. How many times had John and Nancy made out in the Bel Air? 

Rodney didn’t know what he’d been expecting when John suggested they sneak into school after hours. A broken window, maybe, or some lock picking, but not for John to produce a key to the basement door.

“How do you have a key?”

“I made friends with Mr. Kavanagh,” John said as he led the way through the boiler room, the maintenance room, a storage room, and past the locked door to the records room. It was creepy with just the safety lights on. “He’s a really nice guy.”

“Peter’s dad? How can a nice guy be Peter’s dad?”

Peter Kavanagh, like Rodney, was considered a nerd by the jocks, except not even the other nerds liked him. He was a snake, a snitch, and had way too much ego for a guy whose dad was a janitor.

Mr. Kavanagh’s key also got them into the music room. John flipped the lights on and gestured grandly at the piano. “Amaze me.”

Rodney narrowed his eyes at the challenge and made a show of cracking his knuckles and flexing his fingers. The hand he’d hit the hood with was still a little sore, but unlike his earlier prediction he could still play. He made John wait while he ran scales to make sure the piano was in tune.

As soon as John started looking skeptical Rodney began pounding away at the keys in the same frenetic way that Jerry Lee Lewis did. He sang the lyrics under his breath, because as well as he could play piano he was in no way a singer. To his surprise John joined in at the second verse. He couldn’t really sing either, but he was full of enthusiasm.

_I laughed at love when I thought it was funny_  
_But you came along and you moved me honey_  
_I've changed my mind, this love is fine_  
_Goodness gracious great balls of fire_

Rodney looked up at John, laughing, and John just grinned back at him. Feeling emboldened, and since it was just the two of them, Rodney sang out loud.

_Kiss me baby, woo, it feels good_  
_Hold me baby, ooh, yeah, let me love you like a lover should_  
_You're fine, so kind, I'm gonna tell this world that you're mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!_

By the end of the song Rodney was standing up at the piano and both he and John were singing at top volume with a kind of reckless abandon Rodney had never experienced before.

“Damn, that was so cool!” John said. He draped himself over the back of the piano, arms hanging down, as he caught his breath. “You could give Jerry Lee a run for his money!”

Rodney, his own heart still pounding, felt his own smile dim just a little. For the last three years he’d handled his crush on John, because that’s all it was. Just a crush. The girls called that kind of thing puppy love. But now…now it was something else. Something worse, because it was something Rodney couldn’t ever have.

Luckily John didn’t seem to notice the change in his mood. He was looking up at the clock above the chalkboard. 

“Dang. It’s getting pretty late. I should probably drive you home.”

Rodney reluctantly agreed. His parents were undoubtedly pretty mad that he’d been out when he should be getting ready for the long drive in the morning. Trapped with them in the car for twelve hours was going to be a fresh kind of hell.

As it turned out, they didn’t end up going to Rodney’s house right away. 

Almost as soon as they turned back on Henderson a car pulled up close on John’s tail, lights flashing.

“Shit,” John muttered.

Rodney twisted on the seat, trying to see. “What? What’s happening?”

“It’s Cam Mitchell.”

“The guy who wants to race you? You’re not actually going to do that, are you? It’s stupid and reckless.”

John flashed Rodney a grin. “Yeah, it is. But if I back out he wins by default. Can’t have that. Hold on.”

“Why? What are you –”

John stomped on the brakes, forcing Mitchell to go around to keep from rear-ending them.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Rodney shouted, bracing himself on the dashboard.

Mitchell’s shiny black Fairlane pulled up beside the convertible. A girl with streaming pigtails was hanging out the passenger window.

“There you are, Johnny! We’ve been looking for you!”

“So I hear.”

Mitchell leaned across his girl. “Come on, Sheppard. I want a shot at you before you leave.”

“I don’t do pinks,” John said.

“I don’t want your shitty car, man.”

“Fine. Paradise Road.”

“See you there!” the girl said, blowing a kiss as Mitchell pulled in front of John and zipped on down Henderson.

“You’re insane,” Rodney said. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“No-one’s dying today,” John assured him. “You want me to drop you home?”

His parents were going to kill him. “Um…no. That’s okay.”

“That’s the spirit, Rodney!” 

John clapped a hand on his shoulder and Rodney’s stomach twisted. He was so stupid to keep dragging things out. If he was the genius he knew himself to be, he’d tell John he’d changed his mind and needed to go home.

But he’d never seen John race.

_All of my life, I've been waitin'_  
_Tonight there'll be no hesitatin', oh boy! (Oh boy!)_  
_When you're with me, oh boy! (Oh boy!)_  
_The world can see that you were meant for me_

Somehow word spread, and by the time John and Rodney rolled down Paradise Road there were cars parked on both sides, headlights illuminating the blacktop. Kids were everywhere, a lot of them sitting on the hoods of their cars. There was a definite party atmosphere.

“This is where you get out,” John said. “No passengers during a race.”

“Try not to maim yourself,” Rodney replied. 

Evan jogged over, a flashlight in his hand. “You all set, Shep?”

“Let’s get it done.”

Rodney stood off to the side by Evan’s car, a big yellow Roadmaster. It was hard to miss, even in the dark. Laura Cadman, who’d also graduated with Rodney’s class, led the assembled crowd in a verse of that stupid driving song Rodney couldn’t stand.

_Transfusion transfusion_  
_Oh doc pardon me for this crazy intrusion_  
_I'm never never never gonna speed again_  
_Pump the fluid in me Louie_

Evan gave the flashlight to Mitchell’s girl. She stood between both cars and held it straight out in front of her. As soon as she flicked it on there was a squeal of rubber and both cars leapt forward. John let out a whoop, the Bel Air already in the lead.

Rodney watched with his heart in his throat. They were going so fast. It was dangerous and stupid, but a part of him found the display incredibly…heady. Everyone was screaming for their favorite driver, but as the taillights receded something went wrong and Mitchell’s swerved wildly before going off the road and rolling twice. His car was upside down when it came to rest.

The crowd swept Rodney along as they all went running. John beat them there. He was helping Mitchell up out of the ditch, one hand on his back to steady him.

“What happened, Cam?” his girl asked, slipping under his arm and letting him lean on her.

“Tire blew. I couldn’t hold her.”

That could just as easily have been John, Rodney thought. His mind supplied plenty of horrific crash scenarios up to and including the car bursting into a ball of flame.

“Better get that arm checked out,” John advised Mitchell. “Hey, Rodney.”

“That was idiotic. Do you have a death wish? Why not just beat your hands on your chest like a gorilla?” Rodney knew he was babbling but he couldn’t help it. The race, short-lived though it may have been, had been scary and sexy all at once and he was pretty sure that was bad.

“I don’t have a death wish. And nothing happened to me, in case you missed that part.”

“You are so…that was…” Rodney couldn’t think of a single adjective that wouldn’t get him in trouble, so he just threw his arms up and stalked over to the Bel Air. He got in and sat there with his arms crossed until John joined him.

“Where do you live, Rodney?”

“Maple Crest. Number seventeen.”

They drove back into town in silence, which gave Rodney plenty of time to wonder if he and John might’ve been friends the last three years if he’d done something about it. Struck up a conversation that didn’t involve math problems, maybe, or asked him if might want to catch a movie. Rodney’d had more fun in the last few hours than he’d had since his family moved to town.

Any hope Rodney had of being able to slip back in the house unnoticed was dashed when they pulled into the driveway and he saw the kitchen light was still on. John cut the engine and the silence drew out a little longer before Rodney had to break it.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said. “And, you know. The saving.”

“Any time,” John replied. He ran his hand around the steering wheel. “Rodney, do you ever…do you ever feel like there’s something you want but everyone tells you you’re wrong for wanting it?”

Rodney nodded. “Yes. I do.” He thought back to the film they’d watched in Health class last year. It was about homosexuals, how they preyed on young boys because they had a mental disease. Watching that had been terrible, and he’d felt sure everyone could tell he was one, too.

Except Rodney didn’t think he had a mental disease. And he didn’t think homosexuals were lurking behind every bush waiting to take advantage of stupidly trusting kids who didn’t know better than to talk to strangers. He didn’t see any reason a person couldn’t like boys _and_ girls. Rodney could be just as distracted by a pair of breasts as he could a muscular pair of biceps.

“But I don’t think anyone has the right to decide for you. I mean, as long as what you want doesn’t hurt anyone.”

John looked at him, and Rodney’s breath caught in his throat. That was not a look that a friend gave another friend. It seemed his evening of impulsive behavior wasn’t quite over yet.

“We’re both leaving this dead-end town tomorrow,” Rodney said. He slid a little closer to John. “And we’ll probably never see each other again.”

John’s expression was filled with regret, and Rodney’s skin flashed hot. “Probably.”

“So I’m just gonna…” He slid over the rest of the way, grabbed John’s head between his hands, and kissed him hard on the mouth. And maybe the night would end as it started, with a fist in his face, but it would be worth it.

Except John didn’t pull away or throw a punch. All he did was melt into the kiss. The hardest thing Rodney ever had to do was pull away. If his dad saw him kissing a boy in the driveway there was no telling what he’d do.

John had Rodney’s blood on his lips.

“Good luck with the flying,” Rodney said a little breathlessly. “Don’t let anyone shoot you down.”

“I’ll do my best.” John traced Rodney’s mouth with one trembling finger, and then he had both hands wrapped around the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white. “Good luck at school.”

Rodney got out of the car, but couldn’t make himself go inside. John started the engine and the radio came back to life.

_In the still of the night_  
_I held you_  
_Held you tight_  
_'Cause I love_  
_Love you so_  
_Promise I'll never_  
_Let you go_  
_In the still of the night_

He watched John back out of the driveway and drive off, and wished the world was a different place.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156598319@N08/36055605486/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Title is from the song [_When I Fall In Love_ by Nat King Cole](https://youtu.be/Y39N72hN7iQ). This chapter is a remix of my story Cruisin’. I fell so in love with that little ‘verse that I couldn’t help expanding it to see what happened to our boys. And this multi-decade story worked so well with the artwork created by Velocitygrass for the SGA Reverse Bang. The planets really aligned on this one!
> 
>    
>  **Song List:**  
>   
> 
> [Don’t Be Cruel, Elvis Presley](https://youtu.be/ViMF510wqWA)
> 
> [Here Today and Gone Tomorrow, The Browns](https://youtu.be/dUhhCs7GSxc)
> 
>  
> 
> [I Walk The Line, Johnny Cash](https://youtu.be/xObSJWIWui0)
> 
>    
> [Come Go With Me, Del Vikings](https://youtu.be/P1eU_lDQaVM)  
>  
> 
> [Great Balls of Fire, Jerry Lee Lewis](https://youtu.be/ZD8YPY8RBQc) (The version done by Dennis Quaid in the movie because let’s be serious, it rocks the house!)
> 
>    
> [Oh, Boy!, Buddy Holly and The Crickets](https://youtu.be/YwHrx0r0t2s)
> 
>    
> [Transfusion, Nervous Norvus](https://youtu.be/jojuPQXMm44)
> 
>    
> [In the Still of the Night, Fred Parris and The Satins](https://youtu.be/fBT3oDMCWpI)


	2. Lonely Hearts Club

John slid out from under the car, wiping the grease off his hands with a rag. That should do it. He’d replaced the oil filter, the air filter, and the belts. Changed the oil, replaced the battery, and put on four new tires. The Bel Air was ready to roll again.

He pushed himself to his feet, the bad leg stiff and a little achy, and leaned over the driver’s side door. The engine roared to life and John grinned, pleased.

_If you believe in magic, don't bother to choose_   
_If it's jug band music or rhythm and blues_   
_Just go and listen, and it'll start with a smile_   
_That won't wipe off your face no matter how hard you try_   
_Your feet start tapping, and you can't seem to find_   
_How you got there, so just blow your mind_

“You’ve got it running!” Mrs. Lorne stood in the doorway of the garage, beaming. “I knew you would.”

“Care to take a spin?” John offered. 

Evan’s mother had been nothing but kind and gracious to him since he arrived back in town. He’d come to see if he could reconcile with his father, but Patrick Sheppard had refused to see him. So John had gone to see his car instead. He’d left it with his brother, but their father had made Dave sell it. Evan had purchased it for a dollar and let Dave drive it any time he wanted to. John was staying in Evan’s room – Mrs. Lorne told John she missed having a young man around the house – and plied him with food.

“That’s very sweet of you, but I still have baking to do.” Mrs. Lorne gave him a long look. “Have you decided if you’re going to go?”

John shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

His plan was to drive the Bel Air cross country, to California. He needed to figure out what to do with his life now that his time in the Air Force was over. He hadn’t even known his old high school was having a reunion until Mrs. Lorne told him; she was the art teacher there, and in charge of refreshments.

“You should go. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” Mrs. Lorne returned to the house, which had smelled like vanilla and sugar for the past two days.

John knew plenty about regret, but he was determined to put all that behind him, at least for a little while. He slid behind the wheel of the Bel Air and adjusted the seat. His last act before pulling out of the garage was to spin the dial on the radio and put it back on the Country station.

_I'm just thankful for the good times we've had_   
_For without them I could not go on,_   
_With all those funny familiar forgotten feelings_   
_Walkin' all over my mind._

He couldn’t help but wonder if Rodney was going to be at the reunion.

*o*o*o*

The high school gym was festooned with an overabundance of blue and green streamers and enlarged photographs from the yearbook. John still wasn’t sure he was staying beyond helping Mrs. Lorne carry in her trays of cookies, and then someone shouted his name.

“Johnny!”

He turned just in time to catch Laura, who’d launched herself at him. He staggered back on his bad leg but didn’t drop her.

“Jeez, kid! Give a guy some warning!”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Laura gave him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. She was wearing go-go boots and a dress that was so short it would’ve gotten her kicked out of school.

“You’re a sight. Period.”

Laura laughed. “Same old Johnny.” But the way she studied him said otherwise.

John was sure she’d heard about his injury. Everyone in town probably had, just as Mrs. Lorne had filled him in on what his friends, and Evan’s, had gotten up to in the intervening ten years. 

Laura was living in New York City and doing off-Broadway shows. John remembered she’d always done tap dancing exhibitions at the school talent shows and been in all the plays.

“I hear you’re staying with Evan’s mom.”

“Have been. I’m heading West in the next day or so.” John allowed himself to be dragged around to look at the pictures. He was in more than one of them.

“Has she heard from him?” Laura asked, her voice hushed.

John shook his head. “Not for a few weeks. She’s really worried.”

“I hate to think of him there. How could he willingly do another tour? That boy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

It was true. Evan was the quintessential nice guy. Always ready to lend a hand, even to strangers, and he never had a bad word to say about anyone. But John had seen first-hand how war could change a person, and he knew that if Evan did make it home he wouldn’t be the same.

“I hated thinking of you there, too, Johnny.” Laura squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re back.”

John found it unexpectedly difficult to swallow, so he just squeezed back. It was nice that someone was glad he was still alive.

There was a sudden squeal of feedback, and then the band started warming up and tuning their instruments. The reunion was kicking off and John looked towards the exit, but he was foiled again when a couple of his old football teammates caught sight of him. It looked like he was going to stay.

When the band started playing in earnest, Laura was the first one on the dance floor.

_Well, you can swing it you can groove it_   
_You can really start to move it at the hop_   
_Where the jockey is the smoothest_   
_And the music is the coolest at the hop_   
_All the cats and chicks can get their kicks at the hop_

*o*o*o*

It was merely coincidence that John was looking at the doors when Rodney came in. His first thought was, _Fuck! He looks good!_ Rodney had filled out and bulked up a bit since the last time John had seen him, broader in the shoulders and not so angular in the face. John remembered that kiss, a phantom press of lips fully ten years old, and felt his face flush.

The woman on Rodney’s arm didn’t register with John right away, but when he finally noticed her he felt unexpectedly betrayed. She was pretty, in a young, fresh-faced kind of way. She was wearing a modest blue dress that matched Rodney’s suit. They were very clearly a couple.

“Can you believe that guy?” Stackhouse gestured with his cup of punch and nearly sloshed it over the side. “Little science nerd’s some kind of rocket scientist now. Probably makes more than I do, even though those astronauts burned up.”

Stackhouse had been one of the stars of the football team, and now he was selling cars at one of this father’s lots. He’d worn his letter jacket to the reunion and all he’d talked about were the old glory days. Had he been one of the jocks that had bullied Rodney in school? Maybe stuffed him in a locker, or worse? 

John’s hands clenched into fists and he chided himself for being so angry about something that might or might not have happened a decade or more ago. Rodney certainly seemed to have his life together.

_Every time I kiss your sweet lips_   
_I can feel my heart go flip flip_   
_I'm such a fool for your charms_   
_Like to hear you sighin'_   
_Even though I know you're lyin'_   
_Cause I love you too much_

On stage the lead singer was doing his best Elvis impersonation, which wasn’t actually very good. John excused himself and went to see if there was anything else Mrs. Lorne needed. He’d already chatted with all his old buddies and there was no reason to stay.

John got waylaid by Coach Benson, who tried to talk him into joining the special alumni football game that was going on the following afternoon until John explained about his leg. Coach looked crestfallen, but he slapped John on the back and wished him well.

Breathing a sigh of relief John turned and nearly ran right into Rodney. He looked even better up close.

“John. Hi.”

“Hey.” John rubbed the back of his neck. He had no follow-up to that. The only time he and Rodney had spent together outside of a classroom had been John’s last night in town after graduation. They’d broken into the school and rocked out to Jerry Lee Lewis. And Rodney had kissed him.

It was small comfort that Rodney looked just as ill at ease, at least until his girlfriend – wife? – squeezed his arm.

“Rodney?”

“Oh, right. John, this is my fiancée Jennifer. Jen, this is John Sheppard. We, uh, spent a very eventful evening cruising around town ten years ago.”

Jennifer held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, John.”

“Likewise.” And that was a lie that hopefully didn’t show on John’s face. He shook her hand and hated the possessive hold she had on Rodney. 

“Jen’s in medical school at UAB,” Rodney said proudly. “She’s going to be a doctor.”

_Good for her._ “Is that where you met?”

Rodney looked scandalized. “God, no! I mean, not that it’s not a very respectable school for very specific courses, just not the ones I needed for –.”

“Rodney,” Jennifer chastised. “We talked about this.”

“Right. Right. Sorry.” The apologetic look on his face made John want to…well, he didn’t know what, but it probably wouldn’t be good.

“Go get us some punch.” Jennifer gave Rodney a little push and he obediently headed for the refreshment table.

_Bye bye love_   
_Bye bye happiness, hello loneliness_   
_I think I'm-a gonna cry-y_   
_Bye bye love, bye bye sweet caress, hello emptiness_   
_I feel like I could di-ie_

“He’s a little brash,” Jennifer explained, leaning in like she was sharing a secret with John. “But we’re working on it.”

"You look pretty young to be in med school," John countered, absurdly pleased when Jennifer’s eyes narrowed. 

“I’m older than I look.”

“It must be hard to get people to take you seriously.” 

“Oh, I can hold my own.” Jennifer smiled, just a little, but John didn’t doubt her on that point. “Rodney and I make a good team.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“I’ve helped him overcome most of his more…problematic idiosyncrasies. He’s working for NASA, he needs to project the proper image to the public.” Jennifer stepped closer to John and it took everything he had not to retreat back a step. “Whatever distasteful things he got up to in high school he doesn’t do anymore.”

John felt his skin flush. He was either being paranoid, or Jennifer knew that he and Rodney had shared a kiss once upon a time. Why the hell would Rodney have told anyone about that, much less his fiancée? Was he trying to get himself arrested? Or worse?

“He doesn’t need fixing,” John said through clenched teeth.

Jennifer gave him a pitying look. “Everyone needs fixing.” 

Rodney was weaving his way back through the crowd, a cup of punch in each hand, and John knew if he stuck around he was going to do something regrettable. So he turned on his heel and headed out the door at the back of the gym. 

John didn’t stop until he’d reached the football field, illuminated only by the three-quarter moon. He took several deep breaths and focused on relaxing his muscles the way he’d learned during rehab. When he felt less tense he sat down under the nearest goalpost, resting his head back against the cool metal pole and stretching out his bad leg.

How many games had he played there? Too many to count. And none of his teammates had ever suspected he was anything but a full-blooded heterosexual man. He’d worked hard to never give himself away. There’d been no peeking in the locker room, and he kept up his part of the conversation when it came to girls. Nancy had really helped sell that for him, and together they’d presented the perfect image: head cheerleader dating the captain of the football team.

He’d never wondered, not in ten years, how Rodney had known it would be okay to kiss him. 

John heard footsteps through the grass before Rodney cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For whatever she said to you.”

John looked up at him, Rodney’s face pale in the moonlight. He had his hands in his pockets and was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“I just needed some air.”

The silence drew out between them and John thought of all the things he wished he could say. He knew it was stupid, being hung up on a high school crush and one kiss, but being home brought it all back, made it immediate in a way it hadn’t been since he’d been gone.

All the more reason to get back on the road as soon as possible.

“What are you going to do now?” Rodney asked, breaking the silence.

John didn’t question Rodney knowing he wasn’t in the Air Force anymore. “I’m heading West.”

“That’s not much of a plan. Have you thought about going to college?” Rodney pulled his hands out of his pockets so he could gesture. “We were in the same AP classes, John. I know you have a brain under all that hair.”

“I’m a little old to be a co-ed, don’t you think?”

Not that John hadn’t thought about it. If nothing else, college classes would maybe help him figure out what it was he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

“I’m serious! It’s never too late. If you want to be some kind of beach bum after the fact, at least you’ll have a degree to fall back on.” Rodney squatted down, giving John a better look at the earnestness on his face. “You have access to the G.I. Bill, don’t you? Take advantage of that!”

“Okay, Rodney. I’ll think about it.”

“Good. See that you do. You think I’d have the opportunity to work with brilliant minds like von Braun if I hadn’t pursued my education?”

“Give it a rest, would ya?” 

John started getting awkwardly to his feet, that stupid fucking leg making it less than graceful. Rodney offered him a hand up and, after a moment’s hesitation, John took it. Rodney hauled him up and then they were standing so close, and John couldn’t let go of Rodney’s hand and his guts were churning and it seemed in that moment he _had_ to kiss Rodney. So he did.

In the last ten years John had learned a lot of things, some of which would’ve gotten him booted out of the Air Force. Most importantly, he’d learned to take advantage of an opportunity when it was presented to him because there was no telling when it would come around again. 

He kissed Rodney, fervently and just a bit desperately, still clutching tightly to his hand, and his breath caught when Rodney kissed him back. He was embarrassed to hear the needy noises he was making, but not enough to stop. It was better than he’d imagined, and at the same time he knew it would never be enough.

Rodney pulled back first, panting and full of dismay. “John. We can’t. Jennifer…”

John nodded, though his whole body ached with wanting. Rodney was a dream he needed to let go of, he knew that. They could never be together, not the way Rodney and Jennifer were. It wouldn’t be fair to even ask.

“Have a good life, Rodney,” he said, and meant it.

Rodney surprised him with a fierce hug. “You too, John.” He walked away without looking back.

*o*o*o*

John bypassed the remainder of the reunion. He took the long way around to the parking lot, which meant awkwardly scaling a chain-link fence and walking through large pools of darkness. It suited his mood.

Not for the first time he wished he was just a normal guy, that he could fall for a woman and have a family and not spend so much time lying about his true feelings. But he also knew that he couldn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t. Nancy was the last girl he’d be with, even if that meant he’d be alone for the rest of his life.

John’s plan to go back to Mrs. Lorne’s house and pack his things was thwarted when he saw someone standing by the Bel Air. Someone wearing a green dress uniform.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

The soldier turned around, and it was Evan. He’d gotten a lot thinner since John had last seen him, and John had to consciously make an effort not to call him Dimples.

“Evan?”

“Hey, Shep,” Evan said, his voice trembling just a little. “The neighbors said my mom was here, but I can’t…I can’t go in there. Could you…?”

“I’ll get her.” John was glad to have somewhere to go, because Evan looked like he was hanging on by a thread, and John was too emotionally compromised himself to be of any use to him.

Inside the gym everyone had their eyes on the stage.

“…successful graduate of our class. When the US puts a man on the moon, our very own Rodney McKay will have helped make that happen. So let’s give a Wildcat welcome to our reunion King!”

John turned away before he could see Rodney take the stage, and hunted Mrs. Lorne down at the refreshment table.

“You need to come with me,” he said without any preamble. “It’s Evan.”

Mrs. Lorne paled but she followed John out of the gym just as Rodney started his self-aggrandizing speech.

Evan’s face crumpled in on itself as soon as he spotted his mother.

“Ma,” he choked out. 

Mrs. Lorne embraced him, crying herself. Whatever scars Evan was carrying from his time in country didn’t show on the outside but John had no doubt there were there just the same. John been stationed in Thailand, where a lot of servicemen went for R&R, and he’d seen plenty of shell-shocked foot soldiers who’d spent weeks out in the jungle, slogging through swamps and watching the men around them die.

John looked away, his throat tight. His own father hadn’t even answered the door when he’d come home a week ago. He felt awkward, and intrusive, and desperately wished he could get in his car and drive away. Only the sound of a baby’s cry made him look back over. 

A Vietnamese woman stood beside Evan. She wore a traditional Vietnamese dress, the kind with the high neck, and her gleaming black hair was pulled back in coils that shone even under the lamps in the parking lot. There was a dark-haired baby in her arms. Evan visibly fought to get himself back under control.

“Ma. This is Linh Mai. My wife.” He put a possessive arm around her. “And our daughter Ava.”

There was a fraught moment when John wasn’t sure what Mrs. Lorne would do. War brides weren’t unheard of, but he knew the public perception of the war in ‘Nam wasn’t good and he suspected that any Vietnamese refugees would have a tough go in the States even discounting cultural differences.

Mrs. Lorne, though, was an exceptional woman and just as big-hearted as her son.

“Welcome to our family,” she said.

Linh Mai bowed her head, and passed the baby to her new mother-in-law. Mrs. Lorne laughed and cried, and Evan laughed and cried, and Linh Mai looked over at John and nodded politely. He nodded back.

“You guys need a ride home?” John asked. Evan could have his room back. The siren song of California was growing stronger by the second.

Mrs. Lorne beamed at him. “Come meet my granddaughter!”

John made all the right appreciative noises over the baby and Mrs. Lorne kissed his cheek. Everyone piled into the Bel Air, Evan and his new bride in the backseat. When he pulled the car keys out of his pocket, John found a scrunched up piece of paper in there with them. He held it close so he could read it by the dim glow of the parking lot lights.

_If you write, I’ll do the same. If you don’t I’ll understand._

Below that was Rodney’s address in Huntsville. 

John crumpled the paper back up, but he stuffed it in his pocket instead of tossing it out on the pavement. Maybe he wasn’t as ready to give up on that dream as he thought he was.

He turned the car on, lowered the radio just a little in deference to his passengers, and put the high school in his rearview mirror.

_Well, there he goes he hardly knows the heart he's breaking_   
_I talked to him but I don't think he understood_   
_So just forget about the plans that you were making_   
_Heart we did all that we could_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Title from the Beatles album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
> 
> **Songlist:**
> 
> [Do You Believe In Magic?, The Lovin’ Spoonful](https://youtu.be/mDYNuD4CwlI)
> 
> [Funny, Familiar, Forgotten Feelings, Don Gibson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CtqlYK-QB1Q)
> 
> [At the Hop, Danny and the Juniors ](https://youtu.be/U3KjDpvmtwU)
> 
> [Too Much, Elvis Presley](https://youtu.be/uieAO76nld4)
> 
> [Bye Bye Love, The Everly Brothers](https://youtu.be/fUoN50lkRi4)
> 
> [Heart, We Did All We Could, Jean Shepard](https://youtu.be/rebACDDqG9g)


	3. I'll Send You All My Dreams

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156598319@N08/35256068344/in/dateposted-public/)

*o*o*o*

Rodney,

Still no place yet. Been staying with Ronon and his girl. Everyone’s pretty nice here. So in touch with everything, and my father’s head would spin right off his neck if he could see it. Everyone shares everything. Clothes, food, themselves. They take care of each other here, and it doesn’t matter if you were a soldier or a rich kid, or who you love or how.

You ever dropped acid, Rodney? Everything becomes so clear. I know who I am, and what I want. I maybe can’t have it the way I dreamed, but I’m at peace with that.

It all makes sense now.

John

*o*o*o*

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156598319@N08/35256067804/in/dateposted-public/)

*o*o*o*

Rodney,

I saw the Apollo 8 mission on television. That was amazing! I can’t believe you’re one of the people who made that happen. Science fiction isn’t fiction anymore. Maybe I should’ve been an astronaut. Can you imagine what it must feel like to be out there?

You can stop your nagging, I’ve picked a major. Not sure yet what I’m going to do with it, but I’ve been running some study groups and that’s been going well, so maybe a teacher. Nothing as world-changing as what you do but I don’t mind working on a smaller scale.

Evan and his wife had another baby. A girl. I guess you and Jennifer are waiting for her to get done with school. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the wedding. Had a kind of lost weekend myself.

Thanks for the package you sent. I’m rationing the coffee, it’s too good to drink every day. I don’t want to know how much you spend on this stuff.

Hope you like the enclosed chocolates. A guy I know gets them from a friend in Denmark.

John

*o*o*o*

John,

I’ve been working around the clock as we get ready to send the first manned mission to the moon. The Russians can officially kiss my ass. Von Braun said we could do it, and earlier than planned, and as crazy as he can be sometimes he was right. This is the kind of thing I used to dream about as a kid and now I’m right in the middle of it. What a time to be alive! I wish I could bring you down here so you could see it close up. You’d love Buzz Aldrin, he’s a good old flyboy just like you.

My sister is getting married. Despite her brilliant mind – almost as good as mine – she’s settling for a drab English teacher and an even duller life as a housewife. I just don’t understand her. How can she waste herself that way? We have enough housewives, we need more scientists. There are some women working in the program, even though for some reason they’re kept in the basement. It’s very inconvenient for me. I moved one of them up to share my office, because that makes more sense, and you’d have thought I burned your precious flag or something. They can complain all they want. I’m not changing my mind. We’re getting things done faster this way.

I’m sure you heard about the Stonewall riots, since you’re a big time activist now. I hope you haven’t gotten arrested again. You can’t learn anything if you’re in jail. Besides, all the troops in Vietnam will tell you that protests don’t change anything. You need to keep yourself safe, John.

R. McKay

*o*o*o*

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156598319@N08/35256066614/in/dateposted-public/)

*o*o*o*

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156598319@N08/35256069014/in/dateposted-public/)

*o*o*o*

John,

There are times when I despair of the intelligence of the so-called top minds I work with. I’ve been working late hours, and sometimes I get so wrapped up in what I’m doing I forget to eat. Marva usually reminds me – I swear she has a sixth sense about it – but she’s been out sick. I had a hypoglycemic episode and what does idiot Brad give me to bring my sugar up? A piece of the lemon bar his wife always packs in his lunch. He said he panicked and grabbed the first thing at hand, but I swear he’s got his eye on my job.

Spent two days in the hospital, which is why I missed your call. That was an ambulance ride I won’t soon want to replicate. Don’t worry, though. Marva has now banned all things citrus from the office and if you think I’m a force to be reckoned with, I’m nothing compared to her. I’m going to try and convince her to come with me when I leave.

Oh, did I tell you I’m thinking about leaving NASA and going to work in the private sector? I want more control over my own work, and my team. Jen’s against it, of course. I think she likes the prestige of telling people where I work, that I helped put men on the Moon. But I’m not going to stay there just to make her happy. If our roles were reversed she’d do what was right for her, and she’ll never convince me otherwise. She’s just angry that she doesn’t get the respect she deserves, being a woman in a predominantly male field. She knew that going in. 

Getting back to your phone call, I know we were supposed to talk about your post-graduate future. I’ve enclosed a tape that should help lay things out for you. If you need further clarification let me know.

R. McKay

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156598319@N08/35256069154/in/dateposted-public/)

*o*o*o*

Rodney,

I’m writing to you as a brand new graduate of Stanford’s mathematics department. I know I’m setting myself up for a lecture, especially after that “helpful” tape you sent me, but I’m taking some time off before going after my Master’s. There are some things I want to do, places I want to see, and I’m not getting any younger.

It’s nice to know I have you in my corner, though, so thanks for pushing me to get my degree. I couldn’t have done it without you.

John

*o*o*o*

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156598319@N08/35256066994/in/dateposted-public/)

*o*o*o*

The McKay’s aren’t available to take your call. Please leave a message at the beep.

Beeeeep.

_Rodney. It’s John. I…I just wanted to…shit. My dad died. Going home. And I don’t have the first idea how to deal with this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Title from the song [_Sealed With A Kiss_ by Brian Hyland.](https://youtu.be/bbl90s__X4Q) Images snagged from the interwebs thanks to many Googles searches.


	4. Don't Want To Cry All Alone

The state of Rodney’s rental car said a lot about where his head was at. The front seat was littered with Styrofoam fast food containers, empty soda bottles, and candy wrappers. The hopelessly crumpled map was jammed between the seat and the door, where he could get to it easily, and the change he kept for tolls was rattling around in the ashtray.

Jen would’ve had a heart attack and followed it up with the kind of lecture one normally gave a small child who’d done something wrong. Rodney pulled the Hardee’s cup from its precarious resting place between his legs, sucked the last of the cola through the straw, and threw the cup on the floor. “Ha!”

It was a hollow victory.

_We can never know about the days to come_   
_But we think about them anyway_   
_And I wonder if I'm really with you now_   
_Or just chasing after some finer day._

Rodney scowled at the radio and changed the station. Lots of static, a religious channel, something that sounded suspiciously like yodeling, and a country station. His hand hovered over the dial. Country music always made him think of John, who had pretty deplorable taste in music; living in California hadn’t helped, not with the hippie element he regularly exposed himself to.

_Could you hold me in your arms and feel so right_   
_If you knew we'd never see a morning light_   
_After all the love you've given me so free_   
_Would you want the world to end not loving me?_

He gave up and turned the radio off. Silence was preferable to that sappy nonsense. And traveling solo meant he didn’t have to participate in one of Jen’s impromptu therapy sessions; she liked using long car trips to open up about anything and everything, and expected Rodney to do the same. She’d read _I’m OK – You’re OK_ and _Games People Play_ too many times.

Rodney tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He was anxious, and not just because he needed to find a rest stop so he could pee. He hadn’t seen John in the five years since the reunion and he was caught between anticipation and fear. What if things hadn’t changed between them? Worse, what if they had?

Jen had been against Rodney taking the trip. To be honest, they hadn’t agreed on much at all lately. Rodney had been spending more and more time in the lab just to avoid the constant conflict. He wasn’t the most perceptive person, but even Rodney could hear the death knell of his marriage.

He passed a slow-moving VW bus that was papered over with bumper stickers, and when he checked the rearview mirror to make sure he could get back in his lane he saw the garment bag hanging in the back seat. His best black suit was inside, carefully pressed. Funeral clothes.

“Finally!” Rodney stomped on the gas pedal when he saw the sign for the upcoming exit and the service station to be found there. He could empty his bladder and then fill it back up with some spectacularly shitty coffee.

He still had a lot of miles to cover.

*o*o*o*

Rodney had done a hasty check-in and even hastier wardrobe change at the hotel, but the graveside service was already underway by the time he arrived. He kept to the fringes of the crowd. No need to draw attention away from the droning voice of the priest.

It was quite a large turnout. Rodney hadn’t known Patrick Sheppard, except for his parents mentioning once or twice, and always in a disdainful way, that Sheppard was very wealthy. As if it were a crime to be successful. John never talked about his father. Ever. Except for the message Jen surprisingly hadn’t erased off the answering machine. _My dad died. Going home._

Rodney shifted around until he had a line of sight on John, and his breath caught in his throat. The man was only getting more attractive with age, and he looked amazing in the charcoal suit he was wearing. A little lost, maybe. Rodney drank him in, cataloguing every small change. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of looking at John.

And then the guy sitting next to John dropped a hand on his knee and Rodney scowled. The guy was big and solidly built. He had long hair pulled back in a ponytail and was wearing a black Nehru jacket instead of a suit. One of John’s California friends, then. Or maybe more than a friend, since John had become so active in gay rights out there.

Jealousy curdled in Rodney’s stomach, even as he acknowledged the stupidity of feeling that way. He had no claim to John. Two kisses in the last fifteen years, which in the grand scheme of things meant exactly nothing. John was an inconvenient high school crush that Rodney couldn’t seem to get over, despite distance and time and circumstance.

The priest wrapped things up and the casket was lowered into the ground. John and another man – his brother? – each scooped up a handful of dirt and dropped it into the hole. Once that happened everyone started to disperse, likely to head back to Patrick Sheppard’s house for the eating of post-funeral casseroles. 

_You should go home_ , said the little voice in Rodney’s head that sounded suspiciously like Jen. _He doesn’t need you._

Maybe he _was_ being selfish. John seemed to have emotional support from the mountain of a man who stuck pretty close to his side while several of the attendees offered their condolences. Rodney headed back to his car. He needed to take a step back, make sure his being there was the best thing for John.

He didn’t get the chance.

“Hey. Wait up.”

Rodney’s skin flashed hot at the sound of John’s voice. He’d been kidding himself. He couldn’t leave.

John’s limp had lessened over the last few years, but he still had a hitch in his gait that was noticeable, at least to Rodney.

“You came.”

“Still stating the obvious, I see.” Rodney wanted to give John a hug but he couldn’t be sure he’d let go.

John scanned the parking area. “Where’s Jen?”

“It’s just me. She had to work.” Jen always had to work, splitting her time between the hospital and Planned Parenthood. They loved her at the latter, but Jen wanted to be accepted by her male peers at the former. One more source of conflict in their lives.

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you’re here.” John stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You look good.”

“Jen’s got me on a vegetarian diet, which is Jeannie’s fault because she started it.” Rodney thought about all the burger wrappers in his car. He had no regrets. “What kind of person doesn’t eat meat? It’s unnatural. I’m getting sick of salads. The worst part is Jen has Marva on her side, so I can’t even cheat at work.”

It was a stupid conversation to have with someone who just buried his father, but John was grinning.

“It’s hard to imagine,” he agreed. “You coming back to my dad’s house? I know for a fact there’s plenty of meat waiting there.”

Rodney was ready to agree, and then the man in the Nehru jacket was there clapping one big hand on John’s shoulder. 

“You ready to go, John?” The guy looked vaguely familiar, but then Rodney wasn’t always very good at remembering people’s names. 

“Just about. You remember Ronon, don’t you?” John asked.

“Ronon? Oh. Your hair’s different.” The way Rodney remembered it, Ronon had been some kind of greaser. And then he was the guy taking acid trips with John. But Rodney was pretty sure they weren’t anything more than friends, because wasn’t there some kind of girl? Unless Ronon was like Rodney and preferred the company of either sex.

“People change,” Ronon said.

“What is this, a class reunion?” Laura Cadman joined them, and surely it was inappropriate to wear a dress that short to a funeral even if it was black. She had several buttons pinned to her black coat: ERA YES, Impeach Nixon, Gay Rights, and I Am A White Agitator. “Hey, Rodney. Nice to see you again.”

He tried to remember when the last time was they’d seen each other and figured it had to be at the reunion. They hadn’t been friends in high school but he knew her well enough just from all the plays and talent shows and her campaign for senior class president. (Don’t be a cad, man! Vote for Laura!)

“Right. Yes. You too.”

“It was a nice service,” Laura said to John. “Did you see how I didn’t say anything bad about your dad?”

John huffed out a laugh. “I appreciate your restraint.”

“So this is where all the cool people are hanging out.” Evan Lorne joined them, holding hands with two very little girls. Rodney seemed to recall that he’d come home from the war with a Vietnamese wife and a baby. Had that been in the alumni newsletter? Both little girls had predominantly Asian features.

“Where’s Linh Mai?” Laura asked, leaning in to kiss Evan on the cheek. “I wanted to see the baby.”

“Hey,” John protested, and punched Evan in the shoulder. “You didn’t tell me you had another one.”

Evan grinned, and Rodney remembered people used to call him Dimples back in the day. “The announcements just went out. His name is Max, and he’s been keeping his mom up at night so she stayed home with him.”

Laura produced two lollipops from her coat pocket and squatted down to present them to Evan’s little girls. “Pink for Ava and purple for Rose.”

Both girls beamed back at her. They had their father’s dimples. Rodney wondered what his and Jen’s children might have looked like, if they’d ever found time to have them. She hadn’t wanted to give up her career to do the motherhood thing, and Rodney was too busy building his new business. His mother had encouraged him to become a father, which she seemed to think would magically save his marriage even though it hadn’t helped her own.

“What do you say?” Evan prompted.

“Thank you Auntie Laura!”

“Everyone coming back to the house?” John asked. 

“Only if Laura brought some of those fancy city pastries,” Evan said. “I have a craving for a Napoleon.”

“Oh, please. You can make anything better than what I can buy.”

“But?”

“But yes, of course I brought pastries. And for you lucky few, some top quality Manhattan bagels.”

John picked Laura off her feet. “This is why I love you!”

Laura tossed her head back and laughed, a deep belly laugh, and Rodney felt like a fifth wheel. Despite the fact that John lived so far away from Evan and Laura they seemed so close. He knew he wasn’t the best at keeping up with letters, and the phone calls between him and John had been all too few, but he suddenly wished he’d done better. Done more. He wanted to be part of that easy camaraderie.

“I’ll wait for you by the car,” Ronon said. He easily hefted both of Lorne’s daughters, one in each arm, which had them squealing in pleasure. Evan and Laura trailed after him, talking animatedly. 

“You coming?” John asked, and there was such a hopeful look on his face. But Rodney knew he wasn’t needed there.

“Actually, I think I’m going to head back to the hotel. It was a long drive.”

“Oh. Right.”

Rodney hated that he’d made John look so crestfallen, and quickly added, “But maybe we can get breakfast in the morning?”

“Sure. That would be great.”

“I’m really sorry about your dad, John.”

“Thanks.”

He left John standing there, that sad, soulful expression on his face, and cursed himself all the way back to the hotel for being such a coward.

*o*o*o*

Rodney was roused from sleep by someone knocking insistently on his door. He got out of bed, ran into something very painfully with his hip and cursed, and flung the door open.

“What the fuck…oh.” His blinked, the light from the hall nearly blinding him. But he’d know John even with his eyes closed. “You look like shit.”

John was still wearing his funeral suit, though it was rumpled and wrinkled and the shirt was stained with something yellow. He reeked of alcohol, and his face…he looked like a man hanging on by his fingernails.

“Can I come in? Please?” 

Rodney looked over his shoulder at the bed, still mostly draped in shadows, as if Jen would be there to wave an accusatory finger at him. “Um…”

“Not…I won’t do anything. I promise.”

It wasn’t like Rodney could just leave him out in the hall, so he stood aside and let John brush against him as he walked into the room.

“Let me just get the lights.”

“Don’t,” John said, and his voice sounded choked.

“Okay. I won’t.” They sat on the edge of the bed together, and when Rodney’s eyes adjusted to the dark he could just make out the outline of John’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” John scrubbed his hands over his face. “I was doing okay, you know? I accepted who I am, and I have friends that accept me too. I told myself I didn’t care about my father or his opinions.”

“You shouldn’t,” Rodney said. 

“But I _do_! I fucking do! I was hoping that someday he could see me as I am and love me anyway. And now it’s too late. He died hating me, Rodney.” John broke down, hands over his face and shoulders shaking as he sobbed. 

Rodney gathered him in, held him tight, and was glad he couldn’t think of anything to say because his throat was so tight he knew he’d never get it out. But it was good that glad that John was getting it out, was letting himself feel everything he’d no doubt been ignoring for years. Rodney didn’t think much of Jen’s psychobabble, but he knew it wasn’t healthy to keep pushing the negative feelings down without addressing them.

By the time John had cried himself out he was a limp weight against Rodney’s chest, and Rodney’s pajama shirt was soaked with John’s tears. 

“Stay,” he murmured into John’s ear. It was a mistake, he was sure, but Rodney couldn’t send John back to Patrick’s house. Not tonight. “Just to sleep.”

John was so wrung out all he did was nod wearily. Rodney got him out of his jacket and the dress shirt, but John left his slacks on. They curled up on the bed together, John’s head pillowed on Rodney’s shoulder, and the decision that had seemed so impossible suddenly wasn’t. He didn’t know what kind of life he and John could have together, how the logistics of it would even work, but he wanted to find out.

He loved Jen. He always would. But he didn’t think he’d ever been _in_ love with her. Or her with him. Didn’t they both deserve to be happy?

As John’s breaths evened out and he fell asleep, Rodney imagined what it would be like to sleep that way every night. As he drifted off himself, a snippet of a song he’d heard earlier in the day drifted through his mind.

_I can't live if living is without you_   
_I can't live, I can't give anymore_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Title from the song [_(Hey Won’t You Play) Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song_ by BJ Thomas.](https://youtu.be/ym_mJokfTQg)
> 
> **Song List:**
> 
> [Anticipation, Carly Simon](https://youtu.be/4NwP3wes4M8)
> 
> [Would You Want the World to End, Mel Tillis](https://youtu.be/yL0s1rcCJho)
> 
> [Without You, Harry Nilsson](https://youtu.be/_bQGRRolrg0)


	5. High On Believing

John sat out on the second floor deck, the phone cord stretched to its limits. The city was spread out beneath him, and in the distance he could see the Bay. It wasn’t the same as living right on the water, but it was a hell of a view for the amount of rent he paid.

_The house is almost done_ , Evan was saying on the other end of phone. _The Kirkpatricks should be able to move back in in the next couple of weeks._

“Is that the last one?”

_Well, there’s still some tree removal and a few roofs that need to be patched up, but yeah. Everything’s getting back to normal around here._

There had been a rash of tornadoes back in April, what they were calling a Super Outbreak. Over a hundred tornadoes in a twenty-four hour period. John’s hometown had been mostly spared, for which he was grateful. The affected areas had primarily been on the outskirts of town where the farms were. He’d gone down for a week to help out shortly after it happened.

_Hang on, someone wants to talk to you_. There was some muffled talking and then Rose was on the phone.

_Thank you, Uncle Shep. I like the Weebles._

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Are you being a good girl?”

_Yes. I only pinched Max one time._

John grinned. “That’s good. I know little brothers can be a pain sometimes.”

_Guess what?_

“What?”

_Uncle Bao is coming to live with us! Oh. Daddy wants the phone back. Bye Uncle Shep!_

“Bye, sweetheart.”

There were more muffled noises as the phone was passed back to Evan. John loved talking to the kids. Ava was really shy around him but Rose was a diminutive force of nature, and she wanted to be involved in everything.

_The kids really love the playsets you sent._

“Hey, don’t bury the lead. You finally talked Bao into coming?”

_I think it was more that his parents talked him into it. Mai has been begging them to come, too, but they won’t. Too stubborn, too afraid of starting over in a new country._

The war in ‘Nam was winding down. Everyone knew it but no-one wanted to talk about it because it wasn’t a win for the US. John suspected that in the next year or so the troops would be pulled out, and then the South Vietnamese would have to fend for themselves. It didn’t look good for them, which was why Evan and Mai were trying to get Mai’s family out of the country while they still could.

“You got work lined up for him?”

_I sure do. The Kirkpatricks are going to need a lot of help getting the farm going again. The fields got tore up pretty good. Bao was a farmer before the war; he knows how to do the work._

“That’s really nice of the Kirkpatricks.”

_Everyone loves Mai. They’d do anything for her._

“What you mean is they’re all afraid of Rosie,” John said with a laugh.

_That too. Oh, you remember Rodney McKay, right? From school?_

John’s hand tightened on the phone, even as he struggled to keep from sounding anxious. “Sure. I remember him. What…what’s the news?”

_My sister keeps in touch with his sister, and she said Rodney and his wife got divorced. I hear he’s taking it pretty bad. You know, he used to work for NASA._

“Yeah. I heard that too. Rocket scientist or something.” 

Rodney and Jen got divorced? John hadn’t heard from Rodney in a little while, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about that. The last time they’d seen each other, at John’s father’s funeral, John and Rodney had slept together in Rodney’s hotel room. There hadn’t been any sex, not even any kissing. Just Rodney holding tight to John and letting him sleep off the rage of emotion that had swamped him after the funeral.

John couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. Had Jen found out? Did she think her husband was having a long-distance affair with him? He’d been very careful in all his letters to never say anything that could be misconstrued.

Evan went on for another few minutes, giving John updates on some of their other high school friends and acquaintances – Laura was in her first Broadway show, _Over Here!_ – and then he had to go and fix the kids lunch.

_Take care of yourself, John._

“You too, Dimples. And kiss those kids for me.”

John hung up the phone but made no move to go back inside. He was a little jealous of Evan, with his happy marriage and his adorable kids and the acceptance of his community even though his wife was Vietnamese. It was something John dreamed of for himself, but he knew it would never be a reality.

Rodney was divorced. Why hadn’t he told John? Was he afraid John would try to foist a gay relationship on him? Sharing a few kisses was one thing, but sharing a life, a life they couldn’t be open about outside of certain areas in the city, that was probably asking too much.

John sighed and got up to take the phone in. He deposited it on the bedside table and went into his closet. There weren’t many clothes hanging in there: couple of dress slacks, couple of button-down shirts for work, his one good suit. Propped up just inside the door was a cane. His leg ached when the weather changed, which thankfully wasn’t often, but it wasn’t as stiff as it had been back when he finished his rehab. The cane was just for the really bad days.

Up on the shelf, behind the extra blankets, was a plain brown box with a lid. John pulled it out and carried it down to the living room. He put a record on the turntable and then sat down to look through the contents of the box.

_Lighten up while you still can_   
_don't even try to understand_  
 _Just find a place to make your stand_  
 _and take it easy_

The box was full of letters, postcards, cassette tapes, 45s, pictures. Rodney. John had saved every piece of correspondence, even things like Rodney and Jen’s wedding invitation, which had sent him on a pretty epic bender. There were postcards from the trips Rodney and Jen went on, a picture of Rodney standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Wernher von Braun and Buzz Aldrin, and a keychain in the shape of the Saturn V rocket. Newspaper clippings that mentioned Rodney’s contributions to NASA’s space program. A 45 of Rodney playing Beethoven’s _Symphony No. 5_ on the piano.

John rolled the keychain between his fingers, remembering the day that July. Everyone had been crowded around the television set in the student lounge watching as Neil Armstrong became the first man to walk on the moon, but John had been outside looking up at the night sky. He recalled thinking that if a man could walk on the moon, surely anything was possible. 

The letters were a mixed bag. Some incredibly short, others rambling on about nothing and everything for pages. The most recent ones had included rants against therapy and the hacks that called it a profession. John had just thought Jen was into something new, the way she’d made Rodney go vegetarian a couple years ago, but maybe it had been a sign that their marriage was in trouble.

_I'm hanging on to my peace of mind_  
 _I just don't know_   
_I'm hanging on to those good times, baby_   
_Just want to let them roll_

John opened one at random, feeling the same pull he always did at the sight of Rodney’s precise handwriting. He scanned through it, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. He already knew what it didn’t say, but maybe there was more between the lines. It seemed like a lot of their lives fell between the lines, the blank spaces full of the things they couldn’t tell each other. Like Jacob, who’d taught John what a relationship with a man could be like, or the bad trip he’d had the last time he dropped acid which was why he only smoked pot these days. The real story of Rodney’s marriage was probably in those empty spaces too. 

_Primal scream therapy. Who thought this was a good idea? My throat is so sore I can barely talk and it wasn’t cathartic or enlightening or anything else but a group of people screaming at full voice. It’s just as useless as biofeedback and that other thing Jen dragged me to, where people were twisting their bodies up like pretzels. Next she wants to try sensory deprivation._

_I think she’s punishing me._

John folded the letter and carefully slid it back into the envelope. Maybe Rodney was right. Maybe Jen had been punishing him. But for what? And John wasn’t sure he could ask. If they’d gotten divorced, where was Rodney living? Was he still in his house, or was that Jen’s now? John had the number for Rodney’s office but he’d never used it. Maybe he should. 

Or maybe he needed to wait and give Rodney some space. Let him decide when he was ready to talk to John about what had happened.

_I get this feeling I may know you as a lover and a friend._   
_But this voice keeps whispering in my other ear,_   
_Tells me I may never see you again._

Suddenly feeling restless and ill at ease, John decided to go see Teyla. She’d know what to do.

*o*o*o*

Teyla’s shop was in The Haight. She’d refused to move on when the hippies left and a harder element moved in. She defended her block like some kind of commando, armed with her fighting sticks and a refusal to be bullied. It was probably the safest block on the street.

The bell over the door dinged when John walked in. The little shop in the front sold a large variety of homemade, organic products: soaps, lotions, shampoos, poultices, candles, sachet bags.

There was a very small book section as well, mostly self-published works from locals and Teyla’s friends. Ronon’s book of poetry, _Sateda_ , occupied a place of prominence; that one had been picked up by an actual publisher and was reportedly doing well enough that they wanted him to write another. 

The whole shop smelled of sandalwood and lavender and was decorated in earthy colors, giving it a warm feel. The Cat Stevens record playing on the stereo only added to the ambience.

_And if I ever lose my hands, lose my plough, lose my land,_   
_Oh if I ever lose my hands, Oh if... I won't have to work no more._   
_And if I ever lose my eyes, if my colours all run dry,_   
_Yes if I ever lose my eyes, Oh if... I won't have to cry no more._

The sparkly silver curtains behind the register parted and Teyla stepped through. She was wearing a leather corset and a multi-colored skirt that swirled around her ankles. It was a look only she could pull off.

“John. How nice to see you.” Teyla came around the counter and put her hands on his shoulders. John had to lean down to press his forehead against hers, which was how she always greeted her friends. “Come in the back.”

On the other side of the curtain was the room where Teyla conducted her other business. Here the colors were deep reds and blues, everything plush in comparison to the austere storefront. John sat at the round table that was draped with a shimmery blue cloth.

Teyla poured them each a cup of tea from the sideboard, dropping several sugars in John’s the way he liked it. He wasn’t a big fan of herbal tea but he’d gotten used to it.

“You are conflicted,” Teyla said when she sat down. “Your aura is a swirled through with very dark blue. What are you afraid of?”

John let out a breath. He could always count on Teyla to get right to the heart of the problem.

“I have a friend, someone I’ve known since high school. He’s…brilliant and amazing and…”

“And you love him,” Teyla said placidly, sipping her tea. “I have always known there was someone. Well, perhaps not known. But suspected.”

“We’ve only seen each other a handful of times in the last sixteen, seventeen years, but there’s this…I don’t know. This _thing_ between us. It never goes away. But it doesn’t go anywhere either, if you get my drift.”

Teyla hummed her understanding and took hold of John’s hand, turning it palm up. She traced the lines with her fingernail.

“Your heart line is strong, clear and deep. You are at peace with yourself. And here. Your love line. It is unusually long, and very strong as well. You care very deeply for this friend, and put him above all others.”

John found himself nodding, even though he couldn’t see what Teyla did.

“The Mount of Venus, here.” Teyla rubbed the skin at the base of his thumb. “This tells me you are passionate, and your friendships are true.”

“So are you saying that I shouldn’t expect more than friendship from Rodney?”

“I am not saying anything.” Teyla pressed a kiss to the center of John’s palm and released his hand. “I do not yet have all the facts.”

“What else do you need to know?”

John had never been much for talking about himself before he moved to California. Hanging out with Ronon, who was such an open person, had made it a little easier for him to open up as well. Well, that and the LSD. And being part of the gay rights movement meant John had talked about his sexual awakening many times.

He never talked about Rodney.

Teyla took another sip of her tea. “Do you ever dream of your friend?”

John ducked his head, his face flashing hot, and Teyla laughed.

“Let me clarify,” she said. “Do you have dreams of your friend that are not solely about sexual gratification?”

“Um…I did have an experience, actually. At my first Kesey party. I don’t think it was a dream, exactly.”

Teyla sat back in her chair and nodded. “Tell me.”

“I was a pilot, but not in a Skyraider. It was a biplane. Like the kind Rickenbacker flew in World War One. Pretty sure I was stationed in France with the Army Air Service.” John rubbed the back of his neck, trying to remember the details. “It was all so clear. The controls of the plane, the high of shooting down Fokkers.”

“And your friend?”

“He was a mechanic with the Royal Air Force. No, that’s not right. Uh…I think it was the Royal Flying Corps then. Yeah. The RFC. He kept those planes in the air better than anyone else could.”

“You admired him,” Teyla prompted. 

“I did. But it was more. I have a very clear memory of kissing him behind the barracks late at night, where no-one could see. He gave me a gold coin, Canadian, because that’s what he is, to use as a good luck charm. He was so worried I’d get shot down.” John could almost feel the weight of it in his hand, could remember running his thumb over the raised edge. “That’s all, really. But it wasn’t real. It was just a vivid hallucination. A lot of people on acid get them.”

Teyla shook her head. “I do not think so, John. I think it is exactly as you said, a memory. I believe you and your friend knew each other in the life before this one. For two souls to share such a bond is very special.”

“So, what? We’re meant to be together?”

“A bond that stretches lifetimes cannot easily be broken. John, you have been in love with this man for over fifteen years and yet you are not together. That is a sign.” Teyla reached across the table and took both of his hands in hers. “You cannot worry about what others will say. If there is a way for you and your friend to be together, you have to try and make it so. You will never be whole unless you do.”

“I just…I’m not sure it’s the right time.”

“You cannot wait for the perfect moment to be handed to you, John. You have to create it yourself.”

John nodded. She was right. He knew she was right. He and Rodney had lost so much time already. So many years. And maybe they couldn’t make it work, but he wanted to know for sure. Especially since they didn’t have Jen between them anymore.

“I’ll try,” he told Teyla.

“Good luck to you, John. And to your friend.”

John took a breath. “Rodney. His name is Rodney.”

Teyla beamed at him. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

They did the forehead press again and then John showed himself out, back through the sparkly curtains. There was determination in his steps. He’d call Rodney’s office and have them track him down, and together they’d figure something out. If Teyla said the universe was on their side, he believed her.

He slipped a few dollars in the glass jar next to the register, because Teyla never asked him to pay for readings, and Cat Stevens’ words followed him as he exited the store.

_I long to tell you_  
 _That I'm always thinking of you..._  
 _I'm always thinking of you,_  
 _But my words just blow away,_   
_Just blow away_

*o*o*o*

“The universe,” Ronon said once while he and John were both feeling loose and easy, “is a creature that operates on her own time, at her own whims.”

Ronon obviously knew his shit, because when John walked home from the bus stop he found Rodney sitting on his front steps alongside a suitcase. He looked as disreputable as John had ever seen him, his clothes rumpled and his hair too long and stubble darkening his jaw.

“It’s about time you got here!” Rodney said as soon as he caught sight of John. He surged to his feet, arms waving. “I’ve been sitting here so long I was afraid someone would mistake me for a potted plant. Where have you been? I’ll have you know –”

John moved purposefully up the steps and captured Rodney’s face between his hands, kissing him with intent. Rodney fumbled for a minute and then he was kissing back, his hands pressed against John’s chest. That answered the question of whether or not Rodney was still interested, and John felt like he might just float away he was so happy.

“Oh,” Rodney said when they came up for air. And then he was kissing John and it was better than he remembered. Better than anything.

“Stay,” John murmured against Rodney’s mouth. “Today. Forever.”

“It’s not that easy, John.” Rodney pulled back, blue eyes wide. “There’s so much we have to talk about, we can’t just –”

“You and Jen aren’t together. I’m up to speed.” John went in for another kiss, and Rodney looped his arms around John’s neck. He felt like he’d touched a live wire; his skin thrummed with energy. It was better than any chemical high could ever be.

“Stop that!” Rodney admonished, and then they were kissing again and John was laughing at the same time. “Can we at least take this inside?”

John grabbed Rodney’s hand and Rodney’s suitcase, and led him into the house, and John had never dared hope that might one day happen. He had a moment to wish he’d cleaned better and then Rodney was all over him again. John understood how he was feeling.

Minutes or possibly hours later they were curled up together on the couch. John relished every point of contact. He couldn’t stop touching Rodney, his leg, his arm, his face. He was half hard, and it wouldn’t take much to get him all the way there, but he wasn’t going to rush things, not now that he finally had Rodney to himself.

“Stay,” he said again.

“I am,” Rodney replied a little breathlessly. “If you’d let me get a word in edgewise, I’d tell you. I’m moving my company out here. We rented a good-sized space in San Jose. Marva’s handling the specifics. I made her my VP. She’s also going to be hiring some new people, anyone with engineering experience. I thought you could maybe help with that. Maybe you know some people who got let go from their job when they came out.”

“You turning activist now?” John was still trying to wrap his head around Rodney moving to California. Moving his whole _company_ there. “You could’ve told me you were coming, you know.”

“I wanted to.” Rodney leaned in for a quick kiss. “But Jen made things…difficult. She insisted on trying to make our marriage work. And I didn’t want to give you false hope. I had to be sure. About everything: us, my company, my family, myself. If I couldn’t be sure about any of those things it wouldn’t have been fair to either of us. I’m a genius, remember? I needed all the facts.”

John dropped his head on Rodney’s shoulder to hide the prickling in his eyes. Rodney hadn’t come on a whim. He was committed.

“I love you,” he whispered. And then he said it again, louder, and raised his head. “I love you.”

Rodney crushed him in a hug, so tight he almost couldn’t breathe. “Yes! I’ve wanted to say that so many times, and it never felt right because we hardly…but yes! I do, too. I love you too. Forever, maybe.”

John didn’t need to know anything else. They had the rest of their lives to figure things out, to fill in all the gaps. Whatever else life threw at them they’d face it together. The way they were always meant to be.

_For together we can rise above it_   
_We’re gonna be ourselves and love it_   
_The Stonewall Nation is gonna be free_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Title from the song [_Hooked on a Feeling_ by Blue Swede](https://youtu.be/NrI-UBIB8Jk).
> 
> **Songlist:**
> 
> [Take It Easy, The Eagles](https://youtu.be/RA-6woRwm08)
> 
> [Nightingale, The Eagles](https://youtu.be/klS-00hbup4)
> 
> [Peaceful Easy Feeling, The Eagles](https://youtu.be/WwqHarJnQP8)
> 
> [Moonshadow, Cat Stevens](https://youtu.be/hr0rDW5j1KU)
> 
> [How Can I Tell You, Cat Stevens](https://youtu.be/MRHN7nUg26M)
> 
> [Stonewall Nation, Madeline Davis](https://youtu.be/tR8BK56mHOw)


	6. The Best Is Yet To Be

The sky was overcast and threatening rain, but nothing could dampen John’s spirits. He stood on the steps of City Hall and found it impossible to do anything but smile. He clutched his cane with one hand and Rodney with the other, their arms raised in victory.

It had been fifty-eight years since he and Rodney had shared an illicit kiss in the front seat of John’s old Bel Air convertible. Back then it had been illegal for them to express their love.

Today, John had married his high school crush and he had the legal certificate to prove it.

There was a large crowd gathered on the lawn, cheering and taking pictures and throwing birdseed. The local news had a crew there as well, because John and Rodney were the first gay couple to be married in town. 

“Who are all these people?” Rodney asked, adjusting his hearing aid. 

“Does it matter?”

Rodney grinned at him, and John leaned over to give him a kiss. Because he could. Because his love for Rodney wasn’t something he had to hide.

There were plenty of friends and family in that crowd, the cherry on top of a perfect day. Former schoolmates like Evan Lorne, arms slung around his grandchildren, and Laura Cadman, still as feisty as ever, had been supportive of John and Rodney since the day they came out as a couple. John’s brother Dave had health issues that kept him from traveling, but he’d sent his daughters in his stead. Rodney’s sister Jeannie had brought her whole brood, including her newest great-granddaughter.

John would never have imagined that kind of acceptance when he was a young boy struggling to understand his own sexuality. It was a little overwhelming, in the best possible way. 

They weren’t the only ones celebrating the new marriage equality act, so John hooked his arm through his husband’s and they made their way down the stairs to give the next couple a chance in the spotlight.

“Was it worth the wait?” Rodney asked. They could’ve gotten married in Massachusetts or Canada prior to the Supreme Court’s decision, but John had wanted to do it in the town where he’d grown up. Where he’d fallen in love for the first and last time.

“ _You_ were worth the wait,” John replied. He had a moment to enjoy the way Rodney’s expression softened, eyes full of affection, and then their friends were giving them hugs and kisses and congratulations. 

They did a short interview with the newscaster, about how they’d met in high school but it had been almost two decades before they actually got together. John’s memory was still good, and he remembered it all so well: Rodney hammering out _Great Balls of Fire_ on the piano before they had that first kiss. Their high school crush had withstood time, separation, Rodney’s marriage, the AIDS epidemic that had taken so many of their friends, and a culture that was still fighting against gay equality.

“My father never accepted me,” John said. “I like to think that if we’d had more time he’d have come around. But the important thing is I accepted myself. I’m not mentally ill. I’m not a pervert. I’m just a man who only ever wanted people to know how much I love this guy.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of Rodney’s head.

“You’re such a sap,” Rodney said, but he still had that affectionate look on his face and he was holding tightly to John’s hand.

After everyone had taken their fill of pictures, and John and Rodney had posed with everyone they knew, it was time to go. Evan had rented them a ’56 Bel Air Convertible, though he’d apologized for not being able to get it in the same colors as John’s old car. John slid behind the wheel, Rodney at his side, and the only thing that mattered was that they were together.

“What a long, strange trip it’s been,” John said.

Rodney glared at him. “I was very clear about the Grateful Dead ban. If you think I won’t hide the Viagra you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Be a pretty boring honeymoon.” John wasn’t worried. Rodney insisted they were still making up for lost time, and he certainly wasn’t going to argue about getting laid far more than a man in his late seventies could expect.

Rodney snorted, but he rested his hand on John’s thigh and squeezed. “I love you, old man.”

“I love you, too. In this world and the next one.”

_I’ll walk through the fire_  
_I’ll run through the rain_  
_I’ll wait for forever_  
_If Love is your name_

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156598319@N08/36055605156/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Title from the song _Grow Old With Me_ by John Lennon.
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> **Song List:**
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> [Love Is Your Name, Steven Tyler](https://youtu.be/d0n40GVcj64)


End file.
